


McReyes Week Drabbles

by actualcoolcat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Porn, Domestic, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Power Play, Smoke fetish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualcoolcat/pseuds/actualcoolcat
Summary: Various drabbles from various points in time. Each chapter a different story.1.Domestic2.Smoke3.Trust4.Betrayal5.Reunion6.Sacrifice7.Alternate Universe





	1. 1. Stray

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 1. Something simple to start the week off. Not completely domestic but I tried. No beta for this either whoops.
> 
> Blackwatch Era.  
> No content warnings, just some cursing.
> 
> Adopting another living creature takes work.

“Commander—“

“No.”

_Broof._

“But sir—“

“What did I just say, agent?”

Finally forced to lower his comm, Reyes fitted Jesse with an unamused stare. Jesse was knelt down in the alleyway, his lanky arms wrapped around the body of a dog. Two sets of puppy dog eyes stared up at him, and Reye’s stare only hardened into a glare. _What had he gotten himself into this time._

It was meant to be a simple recon mission. Easy. Get McCree off the base and get some experience under his belt. Mission started off fine, the pair of them laying low and scouting out possible exits their target could use. There was no need for additional soldiers as their target wouldn’t be arriving for a few more days. It was safe for them to be here—given they didn’t attract too much attention to their presence.

Sometimes seeing the setup in person was more efficient for recruits than forcing them to memorize a hologram, and Jesse was one of those recruits. Hands on, head strong. Kid had a lot of energy that needed to be channeled in the right methods or else he’d be shooting first and asking questions later. It was an annoying process; kid came with a cocky gait Gabriel had spent the first few months of McCree’s recruitment breaking him out of. He was slightly more manageable now, but still not on level with the rest of his men. Jesse was only a few months past eighteen, and it was times like these his commander was reminded of just how young he was.

“He ain’t gonna be a problem, sir!” Jesse pleaded, his grip on the dog only held more firmly as Gabriel’s cold eyes stared them both down. “Promise I’ll take real good care o’ him an’ you won’t even realize he’s around.”

“I’ll realize.” Gabriel was not going to have this conversation, especially not when they were meant to be on a mission. “Just because some stray mutt decided to follow you around doesn’t mean you take him in. You’re a soldier now, McCree. You don’t have the time or place for a pet.”

“But ain’t I just some stray mutt followin’ you around?” Accusation was thick in his voice, tone coming out with a bite. There came the kid’s headstrong attitude, a fire lighting up in his eyes. A switch from the pleading boy who had previously been kneeling in the same spot.

_Dammit._

Reyes ran a hand down his face. Voices bouncing around in the back of his mind, whispers hazed in past memories. There had been talk around the base when Gabriel first presented the idea of taking in McCree, some more disgusted than others. He knew the kid heard them, but he figured he’d gotten past them like his Commander had. Apparently, that wasn’t case.

One voice in particular stood out louder than the rest, and Reyes could recall the memory associated with it.

_They were in his office, McCree’s file laid out neatly on the desk in front of him. Gabriel was seated in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he stared up at the Strike Commander. They were both exhausted, the Deadlock op turning into a forty-eight hour extrava-fucking-ganza. Gabriel remained resolute in his desire, however, even though Morrison argued against it. Taking in a stray? Morrison knew he had a weakness for the ‘trouble kids,’ but that was just it—Gabriel wanted to offer a kid a deal. It was a few more hours before Gabriel finally convinced Morrison to back off and let him do his job, trust his judgment._

In the end, it had worked out. McCree became a member of Blackwatch and under Reyes’ training the kid was starting to turn heads with the skill potential he had. He was on his way to making a name for himself.

That only brought Gabriel back to the current situation, however.

“Get off the ground, McCree.” Gabriel finally huffed out, frown still resting on his face but expression softening marginally. When Jesse hesitantly lifted to his feet, brushing the dust off his knees, Gabriel reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t care what you’ve heard around base, McCree, but you’re not just some stray I picked up. I recruited you because I saw potential in you. I’m standing with you in this fucking shitty alley because I still do. So don’t say shit like that to sway me into getting what you want, got it? Next time you do you’re running laps till your legs give out.”

There was hesitation from McCree, mouth agape as if to respond, but he soon shut it. He nodded his head, mumbling a small “yessir” as his gaze dropped down to his boots. There was a second before Reyes squeezed his shoulder, letting go. Silence only continued to follow, and Reyes was about to call the conversation closed and reach for his comm again before McCree spoke up again.

“So,” he started slowly, lifting his gaze back up to his commander, “… Did I actually sway ya?”

_Fucking dammit._

There a large sigh from Reyes, the commander pulling out his comm and scowling down at his emails. “… If he even thinks about pissing on anything he’s fucking gone before you can open your mouth. Get him his shots and keep him in your room; you’re on your own with him. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!” A smile beamed on Jesse’s face, the kid dropping back down to embrace the dog in another hug, the animal’s tail wagging at the sudden attention and trying to return Jesse’s enthusiasm by licking his face. This only resulted in laughter, McCree babbling nonsense to the dog and telling it all about its new home.

If the kid was so determined, then fine. He’d be lenient with him this time. A dog recruited to Overwatch. Morrison was going to have field day with this later.

Maybe Gabriel did have a weakness.

_Fucking dammit all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel ends up naming the dog.


	2. 2. Ingrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 2. Smoke. 
> 
> Post-Overwatch recall.  
> Warnings: asphyxiation, capnolagnia, minor d/s & powerplay, frotting.
> 
> Some addictions are hard to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to beta my drabbles let me know. Any typos in this is my bad.

_Warm. Hot. Scorching. Burning._

A warm, pleasant sensation consuming him whole. A vibration running over his skin, nerves shot hot. Every touch seared through his clothes, hands leaving marks where they ran. His chest burned, throat constricted, tongue heavy in his mouth. Yet he couldn’t find it in him to pull away, despite his common sense screaming at him to move, to flee, to grab his gun and shoot. He pushed away the voices in his head, his conscience, the better parts of himself. He grasped instead to the stirring in his gut, the warmth pooling there, the sensations of a familiar presence, the traits broken into him from serving years under another’s command. Most of all, he grasped at the hand that constricted his throat, weakly pulling at it in hopes the iron grip would loosen.

The attempts to free his airway were all met in failure, clawed fingers only gripping tighter, likely to leave a bruise over the sensitive skin. A mark that would remain even days after this encounter, a reminder that would speak _I was here._ Jesse McCree couldn’t stop the small groan in the back of his throat, the noise vibrating but unable to be released past his lips. His vision was starting to turn spotty, black swirling around the corners of the masked figure. If he squinted it almost looked like the figure in front of him was part of the blackness, weaved into it by proximity. He tried not to dwell on the thought for too long, pushing whatever brainpower he had left into remaining conscious.

In one futile attempt-- recalled from memories long past, McCree dropped his hands from the claws around his throat. He placed the palm of his right hand to the cool wood behind him, tapping it twice, tapping out, _surrendering_. A few agonizing seconds passed, McCree clinging onto his consciousness until finally that seemed to appease the man in front of him. His grip loosening enough for McCree to wheeze, coughs wracking his body as air was finally allowed to flow. If only it was oxygen that was pulled into his lungs.

_Smoke. Dark. Hazy. Addictive._

McCree took deep breaths, but instead of fresh air meeting him he was met with plumes of smoke. He coughed and hacked, inhaling much of the dark smog as he tried to fill his lungs with it, to breath in what oxygen it mingled with through the air. It tasted unnatural, akin to ash and burning hot at first, but once it hit his lungs it felt like ice spread through him, a cold grip now rushing through his blood. It was different from nicotine, but after the initial coughing fit it flowed smoother down his throat, a rush settling under his skin that felt stronger than any cigarillo he’d bitten into before. He groaned once more, eyes blinking open, unsure of exactly when they had shut. He was met with the cold stare of the man in front of him, owlish mask expressionless as it seemed to have been waiting, watching, judging McCree’s reactions. A shaky breath is released from Jesse’s lips, and he notices the dark trail of smoke accompanying it out.

There is a moment of silence between the two of them, staring at each other, a moment that dragged on far longer than it seemed. McCree is the first to move, reaching up to his ear and yanking out his communicator, tossing it across the floor and out of reach. His gaze never left the other’s mask, and he earned the reaction of an amused chuckle rising up somewhere behind the cold façade. McCree hesitates for a moment, his common sense fighting to reign him in once more, to alert him of how stupid he was acting and the threat he was surrendering himself to. But Jesse took another inhale of the smoke surrounding them, and he was lost.

_He was young again, lost in the cigar he shared with his commander, long drags taken, shared, exchanged between exhausted bodies, still bathed in the afterglow of each other._

Clawed hands moved, Reyes—Reaper—this man, this figure—grasped at his hips, pushing him back against the rough wall. The gunslinger moved his own hands, reaching out for the mask before Reaper jerked his head away. Though he was silent, Jesse understood. _The mask stayed._

He could feel a warmth engulfing his legs, wrapping around them. It was smooth, causing a shiver to run up his spine as hands worked at his belt, undoing it with practiced grace and discarding it to the side. His pants and boxers soon followed, pushed down his thighs more in necessity than a sensual gesture. This wasn’t a call for romance. Jesse wasn’t even sure if he’d leave in one piece—but his body craved the other’s touch. If for one moment he could pretend— _nothing had happened, no time had passed, they were together_ —he would swallow his pride and give himself up to this desire. The warmth spread further up his legs, coming up to his bare skin and McCree finally dropped his gaze down. Smoke was surrounding him, running over his skin, consuming what parts of him were available. The dark haze was thicker than any smoke he had seen before, yet lighter than the actual touch of something solid. It felt entirely wrong, but it ran over him like silk, soon engulfing his hardening length and causing McCree’s hips to jerk forward out of instinct. He moaned, the dual sensation of the smoke running along him and sharp claws dragging across his hips sent his eyes fluttering shut once more.

McCree rolled his hips forward once more, testing, and was met with no backlash from Reaper. A small rhythm was started, McCree rolling his hips against the smooth, warm texture of the smoke. It was beyond pleasurable, his dick hardening easily into a full erection, yet it lacked enough friction to bring him to any release, even as his hips moved at a faster pace. He could feel the sting of claws as they ran parallel to his hips, wrapping around to his ass and digging in. More marks letting their presence be known, aches and signs Jesse would carry with him that would remind him of what happened to him. _What he let happened, what he was giving himself freely over to._ He moaned again.

No sound had come from Reaper during this whole interaction other than the chuckle McCree had earned. Even with the silence between them, the gunslinger could guess at some of the words traveling through the other’s head. _Murmurs, sweet nothings, derogatory words he would moan for because it made Reyes move faster, harder._ His voice wasn’t the same now, and Jesse knew why he wouldn’t speak. Even though he longed to hear him one more time; the dead couldn’t speak. Jesse could close his eyes and grind against this figure, fool himself into thinking it was the man he had loved, but they both knew that wasn’t the case anymore. At least Reaper was considerate enough to leave the spell unbroken this time.

Jesse rested his head against Reaper’s shoulder, hands gripping at the leather of his coat, frotting against the smoke as he chased after his arousal. The smoke he breathed was thicker the closer he was to Reaper, ash catching in his throat every few moans, his voice getting needier and heart beat faster the longer he stood like this. His back arched as hands traced up his lower back, pushing his shirt up and out of the way. He was teasing him at this point, knowing how close— _but just not close enough_ , Jesse was to climax. Precum was dripping out from his cock, but the smoke was too smooth for him to grasp any release from. He needed more.

“Gabriel…” He moaned out, gripping Reaper tighter, moving to hide his face in the crook of his neck, letting hot breath hit against him. McCree abandoned his pride, his cocky attitude left behind as he let himself plead. He voice was quiet, soft, meant only for the other’s ears, “… Please.”

Silence. _Always silence, too much silence._ Reaper’s hands still their progression upward, one hand dropping down to McCree’s hip with the thumb of his other hand placing itself at the small of his back. He lets it rest there, running along the length of his spine, causing McCree to groan in need as he waited for any type of answer. Jesse had given himself up freely to him, longing for his touch just one more time. It would have humiliated him if anyone else was around to witness it, to see him gripping on to the enemy, consumed by the smoke he gave off and intoxicated on his touch. He had surrendered too easily; a man living in the past, too desperate for his own good. But they had been fighting too long before this, too many days against one another, too many battles that tore at him inside. When Reaper drove him away from his team and pinned him against this wall, they had both been dancing around each other, _teasing, longing, wishing_ —and McCree finally broke. He wanted to put the past behind them, wanted to go back to how things were. Wanted to have Reyes back with him.

But it was Reaper who stood before him, silent. And in one single sentence, McCree’s world was thrown into ice.

“You don’t deserve it.” Reaper’s words were gravelly, rough, bitten out with venom laced between syllables. A reply to his need. To his pleads. To his thoughts.

McCree’s head jerked back, eyes wide, mouth opened to question what was just said to him. But the spell was broken, and no reason was left to stay. The solid figure before him evaporated, turned to smoke right in his grasp. Reaper dissolved into the shadows and left McCree to fall to the ground, groaning in pain as he was suddenly left alone in the room. His cock still ached between his legs, desperate for release, but a hollowness had settled in his chest. This had been Reaper plan, Jesse now realized. Lost in his own emotions he played right into the other’s hands, allowed himself to be given up just to be rejected.

The past had its bright points, but it also had its long, shattered promises. McCree would always play the fool, wanting the good but forgetting the bad. Wanting the repentance from his betrayals, but forgetting how the dead could not abandon grudges.

And so McCree was left. Scratched and bruised, erection begging him but heart left cold. He glanced around the room, struggling to pull himself up and to his feet. A chill ran over him, bit him to the core, frigid and dull. Surrender never suited him. The heat of the moment had gotten to him, clouded his judgment. He should have realized this was how it would end.

McCree pulled his pants up painfully, the hope of any release forgotten, unwilling to be accomplish with his own hand. He snatched his communicator off the ground, checking to make sure it still worked before placing it back in its proper place. Ash was coughed out past his lips, the taste bitter on his tongue and making him sick. He took one final look around the room as a final trail of smoke passed out his lips. McCree stood alone.

_Cold. Abandoned. Ungrateful. Despised._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forget who exactly it was, but this chapter is dedicated to some people in the McReyes Discord server who were talking about fucking smoke in #the_pit last week.  
> I was going to end this differently but my friend was like "blue ball him" so y'all get angst instead whoops. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Next few chapters might be a little late as well but I'm determined to do each prompt!  
> I'm McNuggies on the McReyes server and my tumblr is: maskedcheapskate.tumblr.com if you wanna hit me up with anything. Thanks.


End file.
